


The Morning After

by mercurialMalcontent



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-27 04:26:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercurialMalcontent/pseuds/mercurialMalcontent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The aftermath of a drunken confession and a tumble down a flight of stairs is bound to be an awkward one, especially when the target of your confession is the one nursing you through your hangover. [Set during Act 6 Intermission 3]</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Morning After

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rainbowBarnacle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowBarnacle/gifts).



You come awake as one big ache. Your pounding head you can understand -- you put away a really absurd amount of alcohol last night -- but the soreness down the rest of you is a mystery. You stretch and gasp with pain. It's like you fell down a flight of stairs or something--

Kanaya's voice interrupts your thoughts. "Are you back in the world of the living, or will I have to inform the others that you've become a well-pickled zombie?"

It all comes back to you -- or at least the bits not blunted beyond recognition by your inebriation. Oh god. You did fall down a flight of stairs, but not before blurting out your feelings in a drunken fit. You groan and squeeze your eyes more tightly shut. "I have good news and bad news."

"There is a trash bin by the bed if you need to vomit," she says, dry humor not hiding the relief in her tone.

"Why thank you," you say, just as drily. "However, the bad news is that I am currently dying from embarrassment." You turn your head to what you hope is the wall and sigh. "Please leave me to perish in peace."

"I'm sorry, but I promised Dave to, in his words, 'make sure that silly broad doesn't die of her stupid teenaged shenanigans', so I'm afraid I'll have to insist you stay alive."

"Striderly concern certainly is a thing to behold. Nonetheless, I fear that unless he's going to stop me himself, I'm going to thwart your efforts." You pull the blanket over your face.

Kanaya pulls it back down. "He was going to, but I insisted."

You sigh and open your eyes a crack. There she is, right in front of you, spine rigid and hands tightly clasped in her lap. Damn, a perfectly good dramatic moment ruined by your inability to remember which side of your bed the wall was on. You blame the headache. "I'm not any less embarrassed, but after last night I am intrigued as to why you'd want to subject yourself to my hangover."

"Ah. Well." Her eyes dart from her hands to your face and back. "I've read a bit about your favored variety of human soporific, and I've gained the impression that a person under the influence may say things they don't mean."

Oh dear. You thought the headache was bad, but now your stomach threatens that you'll have to make use of that handy trash bin. You keep your eyes fixed on her hands as well as you answer, "That is part of the general mythology of the substance, yes."

Her hands tighten around one another. "And that one may act on romantic impulses one may not otherwise have."

"Also a part of the mythology," you say carefully.

"So..."

"Not all myths are true."

"That isn't an answer."

"You haven't given me a question," you say peevishly. Kanaya's head droops and she turns away. You rub your face. "I'm sorry, I'm being an ass." You try to get out more, to say it again, but you just open and close your mouth like a particularly stupid fish before you finally just sigh and put your hand over your eyes. "In your reading, did you come across one of the slang terms for alcohol, 'liquid courage'?"

"I... I can't say I did," Kanaya says softly.

"It has to do with how alcohol lowers inhibitions. It doesn't make a person spontaneously want to do things they'd never do, but it does provide a certain... lubrication to one's usual urges. Unfortunately, it also impairs one's judgment considerably in the quantity I imbibed."

"You're using a lot of words to say very little," Kanaya says with a hint of her usual exasperation.

You breathe a laugh. "So I am. Let's see if I can get to the point." You uncover your eyes and look up at her beseechingly, even though she's not looking at you yet. "Kanaya, even though it was through a drunken fog and came out very stupid, I meant every word of what I said."

Her breath catches. "Every word?"

"Yes."

"Even the ones about auspisticizing between--"

"Okay, okay," you say, holding up a hand, "I don't know about _everything_ , but let's revisit that when my head is less of a bastion of unending pain. Aside from those -- everything."

Kanaya looks at you sidelong a moment, then takes your outstretched hand. "Then the first thing I will instruct you in is how to rid yourself of your hangover, because you look like death warmed over. Sit up."

"Thank you _ever_ so-- ow." You clutch at your head, which protests at your sudden vertical movement.

"You did say _all_ of the quadrants, Rose dear," she says sweetly as she hands you a glass of water and two aspirin. 


End file.
